


saudade

by glorybringer



Category: Hello Charlotte (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, and straight up spoilerish!!!, but better safe than sorry, don't read it if you haven't finished the game yet, first person POV, in which bennett cares too much, tbh it's just sad, there's a tiny mention of violence but it's very short and not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 20:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16394927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorybringer/pseuds/glorybringer
Summary: the love that remains.





	saudade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kagehiras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagehiras/gifts).



> hello hc tag i haven't posted on ao3 in so long where am i. as you can see i decided to gift this work to kaorol, one of my best friends and the person who made me fall in love with this game and these characters i love her!!! chu  
> well that's enough  
> enjoy ★

“there’s a niche in his chest  
where a heart would fit perfectly,  
and he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place–  
well then, game over.”  
— Richard Siken

I'm not supposed to miss you. Why should I? You stand right here before my very eyes, looking as tired as ever, your gaze scrolling down the screen of your laptop. I shouldn't even be allowed to stay here this late at night, but you don't seem to care and what do I have to lose at this point, anyway? Not much, really. Night is when the soap's effects wear off and this means I get to be — more honest. With myself, and others, and you. Especially you. Because you're not him and you'll never be.  
Sure, you have his eyes, and sure, your hair is just the same as his; sure, the words you say sound exactly like what he would say — I suppose you have his hands and his intelligence and everything in between. That's the way you're programmed to be, after all. I suppose his nightmares keep you up in the coldness of your laboratory and that you're fighting his struggles because who should do it since he's not here anymore? You're nothing more than a shell, like the ones that came before him and the ones that will take your place once you'll be no longer functioning. Game over. A failed experiment, a pretty broken doll thrown in a pile full of other pretty broken dolls which look just the same. A copy, a thief.  
I suppose. I guess. I think. I imagine. That's it, that's all there was. 

You took everything from him, sure, let's say, for a moment, I believe you, alright — but what about the first time you fixed my rotten body? That one time you held my hand and explained how the regeneration process was going to work on me? What about that one time, on the couch, too close for our own good, playing a game you were terrible at? Because, trust me, you suck at this game. You remember how you told me to shut up and kept trying, choosing nothing but the worst options? For being so smart you sure are stupid sometimes. It was a failure. Just like your previous existence — ah, but this is not about you, you can’t possibly remember the taste of that one time I woke up and your hair was tickling my neck. The joystick was on the floor, I couldn't recall who fell asleep first - in retrospect, it was probably me - but you used me as a pillow and it was uncomfortable and maybe, just maybe, I thought about cutting off your hands and legs, for a moment, the sound of the chainsaw already ringing in my ears. I could see it happening. Instead, I closed my eyes again. I didn't mind. But who knew I would have missed something as naive as your sleeping face on my chest?

Do you remember? Feelings are nothing to me but a burden. Well, the soap helps, but you had to ruin it. You had to see through all my cracked smiles. You had to come into my life and care enough about me and you just had to go and teach me that it was okay for me to care about you back. I laughed. I laughed because I didn't know how to tell you that _I cared too much_ and that's why I wanted you to shut off whatever function was causing me to have emotions. Please, you're a doctor, you should know better. Just cut it off. Like an infection, a plague, it's going to kill me slowly; I don't need this mass growing inside of me that takes my breath away whenever I realize that _I care_. And the problem is, _I don't want to, I want it to stop._  
You say, it's alright. You say, it's okay to care. And I want to believe you, but what all of this caring for you amount to now that you're not here anymore? I cared. I care, I still do. No, it's not fair, I know, but you forced me to, so you can't complain, can you? I should be the one complaining — you refused to take this weight off my shoulders and then you left. I'm the one who should be mad. Because now you're not here and he'll never be you.


End file.
